Pumpkin Spice
by silly-beggar
Summary: Modern AU, based on an Imagine Your OTP Prompt. "As Anna rolled her eyes and muttered something about him 'living in 1924', he realised that this wasn't so easily won."


**A/N: Well. I did something I never thought I would do. I managed to write a fic. This will be the longest author's note you'll ever get, don't worry. I am no stranger to Banna fanfiction. I've read and reviewed for a long while, but this is my first time writing. I** _ **know**_ **I am nowhere near as good as every other Banna writer on here, but you've got to start somewhere, right? Just don't expect too much…!**

 **Thank you to my wonderful betas me-and-mister-bates (who sent me this crazy AU prompt in the first place) and downtonluvr for their invaluable help, plus my twin downtoncottage who is just the best. To all of you who encouraged me to write- you're the loveliest.  
**

 **And, of course, I don't own Downton Abbey. For the record I also don't drink coffee so I don't frequent Starbucks. If anything is off I do apologise and I will shift the blame onto my coffee expert downtoncottage.**

* * *

 _OTP Prompt: Imagine your OTP having a low-key argument in a Starbucks and the guy sitting behind them is livetweeting everything he overhears._

* * *

"Don't you dare embarrass me like that again, John," she said hotly, sitting down in one of the large armchairs tucked in the corner of the shop, "that was completely unnecessary."

John sighed. "I don't know what you mean, I was exercising my right to an opinion. I don't like this chain."

He stretched out on the wooden chair opposite her, accidentally knocking the man behind him. His apology was met with a smile, and look as if to say 'good luck mate' before the man pulled out a mobile phone and began to type.

"Well perhaps you could have exercised your _opinion_ before we entered the establishment," she shot him a glare, her tone sarcastic, "oh wait, you weren't paying attention."

"Says she, always on her phone on Instagrain or pinning things on Pinningterest," he retorted. He settled back, traces of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. As Anna rolled her eyes and muttered something about him 'living in 1924' and it being 'Insta _gram_ ' and ' _Pin_ terest', he realised that this wasn't so easily won.

"Come on, love, you know this tax business grates on my nerves. They make more than enough money to employ every Tom, Dick and Harry fresh out of uni, selling this Pumpkin Spice rubbish to everyone _in_ uni and they still can't pay the tax they're supposed to. It's just not right. And anyway, you're getting your coffee now, aren't you?"

Anna huffed and crossed her arms, "Be that as it may, there was no need to insult the poor barista. She was petrified. And to ask her to put my muffin back? Come on."

He shot her what he hoped was a winning, yet chastised, smile.

"Don't you try those puppy dog eyes on me, John Bates."

Puppy dog eyes? Hadn't she told him that smile made her weak at the knees? He ran his hand absentmindedly over the rough stubble on his chin. He must be losing his touch. Or perhaps she really _was_ embarrassed at his behaviour.

"John!" Anna's insistent voice pierced through his thoughts, "they've called your name twice already."

"Couldn't you have gone?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. _Really, John? Now of all times?_ The glare he received as a reply was incentive enough to make his way over to where the exasperated barista was waiting with his cappuccino and her bizarre combination of pumpkin and coffee.

He didn't know why he was so bothered over this. It wasn't as if he could deny her anything since they'd met four years previous. They'd have ended up in this bloody place anyway, even if he had encouraged her towards the Costa next door.

He'd tried to convince her to find someone closer to her age who could offer her more than a witch of an almost-ex-wife and a sometimes gammy leg. She'd shot down his self-deprecating 'nonsense' each time with a "you silly beggar" and a kiss, so that was that.

He'd wanted a big wedding to show her off; she convinced him that the local registry office with their nearest and dearest was plenty.

He had almost booked a honeymoon in Paris before she looked up at him through her lashes and mentioned Mauritius. Well, she was right. They wouldn't have seen much more than the room anyway. They'd see Paris another time.

"Excuse me, Sir? All okay with the drinks?" Lost in the thoughts of his beautiful (and rather manipulative, now that he thought about it) wife, John had been standing at the counter with both drinks in hand. He mumbled an apology and made his way back over to Anna, receiving a sympathetic look from the man seated behind him.

Anna, for her part, had been fuming at John's back whilst he collected their drinks. She may have known that Starbucks was not his favourite place to be, but all she had really wanted was to have her first Pumpkin Spice Latte of the season in the company of her husband. There was no need for him to be so _embarrassing_. As she watched him lumber over to her with an apologetic look, she felt the anger dissipate faster than she would have liked. She really couldn't be angry at that face. He believed what he did because he was an honourable man, and she loved him all the more for it. It was inevitable, really. He couldn't help himself being so opinionated. Even if the delivery didn't always give off the greatest impression.

"Chocolate powder on top, John?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes only a little. He groaned and turned around again, making his way to the condiments. Yes, she really could not be angry with him for long. Not when he looked like that. She was particularly partial to that flannel shirt; letting this go today wouldn't hurt…

"Back, milady, with your pumpkin nonsense and chocolate powder lightly-but _only_ lightly- dusted on top. Is that correct for your ladyship?"

"Shut up and drink your coffee," Anna replied, grabbing the drink from his hand before he had the opportunity to delay even further, but with a smile that said all was forgiven. She looked up a moment later with a frothy moustache.

"Tastes alright, doesn't it Mr Bates?"

"Not in the slightest. There's traces of tax avoidance right across my palate," he countered without missing a beat. Anna snorted and focused her attentions back on the drink.

"We should be quick though, love. We're having George for Matthew and Mary tonight aren't we?" He certainly wouldn't pass on an evening of watching his Anna looking perfect with a little blonde baby in her arms. Plus George was a sweet chap.

"Not anymore. Mary called and said he has a temperature, bless him, so we're relieved of our duties," Anna relayed the information she had forgotten earlier.

"Poor little mite," he replied almost wistfully, downing the end of his coffee, "I was quite looking forward to spending some time with him." _What a changed man I am_ , he thought. _Disappointed at not spending the evening with a baby._ He looked at Anna. _The spells this woman has cast._

"Well, that's a disappointing reaction. I was hoping you'd be excited about getting to spend a night in with your wife. _Alone._ " She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh…well. I, yes of course I…" he spluttered. She put down her mug (she hadn't even finished the blasted drink).

"Home time, Mr Bates?" (Perhaps it wasn't four pounds wasted after all…)

"Nothing could sound better, Mrs Bates."

The man who was sat behind John watched the couple leave the shop full of unspoken promises and love. He shook his head, grinned then typed a final few words on his phone before dropping it back into his pocket.

* * *

There really was nothing better than the sound of Anna's laugh. He loved her unrefined snort of amusement (she always insisted that she was a not a lady) and the high-pitched flutter of her giggle (she _was_ a lady to him, and he had never known a finer one) but there was nothing he loved more than a proper hoot of laughter when something really tickled her.

"Oh John! Come see this!" she called him over from her place on the bed, phone held up in the air over her face.

"What's on twatter now, love?" he questioned, pushing his luck by morphing the website's name in the hope of hearing his wife's beautiful laugh again. He wasn't _that_ out of touch (though Twitter and Facebook were probably his limit), but he loved to see the look of exasperation on her face when he feigned ignorance and the laugh that would inevitably accompany it.

"God, John, it's _twitter_. But this is a Buzzfeed article Gwen sent me. Said it would make me laugh," she drew her eyes away from the phone to look at him.

"And right she was," he made his way over to his wife, pulling on a flannel shirt. Flannel had brought him considerable luck last night. "For I was just treated to that wonderful sound." She rolled her eyes at him before meeting his lips with hers.

"Silly beggar."

"Your favourite silly beggar, though." He kissed her again, before walking over to the wardrobe for a pair of jeans.

"You distraction, John Bates. This man livetweeted an argument he overhead at Starbucks between a couple. Turns out I'm not the only wife who has to deal with a moral and honourable husband who makes a scene. Look, after the embarrassment he says…" she trailed off.

"He says what love?" John looked over to see Anna with the blood all but drained from her face. He made his way over to the bed. "Anna? Are you ok? Anna, love, what's wrong?"

"John, it's us." She said, dropping her arms to her side.

"What's us, love?"

"The man."

He chuckled. "The man is us? I don't think so, Anna."

"John stop being silly." She sounded exasperated now, and a touch scared.

"Anna, I am not following a word you're saying,."

"John," she hissed, "he livetweeted _our argument_. At Starbucks! With you being an idiot about the tax avoidance. Oh, it's near enough gone viral. This is on Buzzfeed's front page. God, I can't look." She groaned and threw her arm dramatically over her face.

"Anna what is this bizz-feed thing?" She sighed, thrusting her phone into his hands.

"Just look."

And that he did. As he read the article, Anna pushed herself up, leaning against his shoulder, watching her husband intently for the look of horror that she expected to slowly morph onto his face.

"John? Why are you smiling? He heard _everything._ He referred our night at home alone." He turned to her, smirking.

"He complimented me. Said 'nicely done. And stopping you buying the muffin was apparently a good move. 'A new one' he calls it." Upon seeing Anna's confusion he turned his attention back to the phone, before his voice took on a more gravelly tone.

"Well, Mrs Bates. Turns out your ogling of my behind was quite noticeable. Our friend here says you were rather taken with me." He smirked once more, enjoying the scarlet flush that worked its way up Anna's face.

"Men!" she said throwing herself down on the bed.

"Life!" he mimicked her action.

"Shut up," Anna rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything more, her husband had crawled over her and began to kiss her neck.

"Make me."


End file.
